


Can you Hear Me Calling (Calling out Your Name)

by karrenia_rune



Category: Everywhere-Fleetwood Mack (Music Video)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Gift Fic, Inspired by Music, Mentioned Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Jukebox 2020





	Can you Hear Me Calling (Calling out Your Name)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StopTalkingAtMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopTalkingAtMe/gifts).



Disclaimer: The song and the video is by its original creators, Fleetwood Mac. It is not mine and is only used for the purposes of the story.  
The OC's are mine. Gloria comes from a long line of French Lycans.

"Can You Hear Me Calling (Calling out Your Name)

It was a magnificent house, one belonging to an old-money family of Manhattan, and it looked it; from its high lead-paned windows and gabled dormers, and once they'd been allowed through the gates.

Sydney Harlow nee Bristow and her husband Anthony Bristow could not help but admire the old-world architecture melded with some of the most promising of modern technology.  
Off to the side of the property, they could both see the beginnings of a topiary garden with neatly trimmed hedges formed into the shapes of animals, lions, tigers, a squirrel, a bluejay, and dogs, or were they wolves?

In any case, they had been done with a lot of skill and detail.

Leading up the steps to the manor were more wolves mounted on stone pillars. Leaning over to her Anthony whispered in her, "What a place!"

"It's really something else. I wonder what the family will be like to work for.

"From what I've heard they're okay, kind of stand-offish at first, but that's pretty typical of the bourgeoisie; but as long as you follow their rules, I'm certain it will be fine," Anthony replied.

The drive came to an end and pulled up off to the side of the main entrance. The taxi driver turned off the ignition and they paid him.  
Getting out of the car, Sydney and Anthony waited until the driver opened the trunk to gather their luggage. Once that was done, the taxi driver got back in his cab and took off like a shot.

"Wonder what got into him," Anthony remarked as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck then dropped his hand back down to rub his left arm as if he were unconsciously rubbing warmth and circulation back into the limb.

"I don't know, but we should get a move on."

They went up the stone steps and Sydney tugged on the ornate door knocker, formed into the shape of a lion. The door was opened by the butler, Jerome, who welcomed them and ushered them into the vestibule. 

"Welcome, Mr., and Mrs. Bristow. we've been expecting you. I'm certain you're both tired from your journey and it's getting late, but if you will accompany me to the common room reserved for the help I will introduce you to the rest of the staff."

"Lead on, McDuff," Anthony replied.

Sydney rolled her eyes.  
The staff consisted of Jerome as the head butler and the head of the household. Then, there was, Eleanor, an elegant older woman who oversaw all the female servants and was the head of the kitchen. Meg, the downstairs linen maid. Henry, the head groom and his son, William, along with a bevy of other servants.

Once all the formal introductions were over Jerome told the newcomers that would find an envelope in their quarters with detailed instruction of what of the rules, and their specific job duties. 

"Would you like any tea, dearies," Eleanor offered. "I was just in the midst of brewing up a pot of chamomile tea. It's very good for calming the nerves and helping one get a good night's rest. Good Lord, we all could use.."

"Hush, Eleanor," Henry chided.

"No thank you, on the tea,' Sydney replied. "But we would like to retire for the night."  
"Of course," Eleanor replied with a wide smile. "Welcome to Ellington, and good night."  
***  
Once Sydney and Anthony were alone in their small room furnished with a bed, washbasin, and closet and a small antique scroll-topped writing desk. On the way, they had noticed that there were two wash-rooms one for the women and one for the men. 

The carpets were done in tasteful dark colors, a deep taupe and black with subtle brighter colors in the weave.

The walls not painted and instead had been paneled in cedarwood, with electric lamps casting the only illumination in the fading light of the oncoming evening.

Anthony set down their luggage and rolled his shoulders. I figure I'll be working with Jerome. He seems like a decent. A bit old-fashioned and stuff, but decent."

"He does, just try not to ruffle his proverbial feathers too much with your new-fangled modern sensibilities, dear."

"Who me? Is being stuffy and old-fashioned a requirement for butlers in the turn-of-the-century houses, or is that just an occupational hazard?"

"I'm going to change and get ready for bed," Sydney said.

"Me, too. Should I open that envelope now or later?"

"We'll open it together tomorrow."

***  
In the morning Sydney and Anthony did so and learned that the west wing was off-limits not just to the staff but also to any guests or visiting family members. 

Anthony, as Sydney had predicted tried to curb his natural inclination to provoke a reaction out of the older, stuffier, and more proper gentlemen, Jerome, and they got along just fine.  
Sydney worked closely with Mira and Meg as they learned to split their duties on the three floors of the manor. Syndey found herself enjoying the work, cleaning, dusting, doing laundry; and helping out in the kitchen. 

Her interactions with the Ellingtons were limited but cordial, and neither of them had any complaints. It seemed that they had found an ideal job placement for a just married couple.  
Four weeks went by before Sydney and Anthony were willing to start to ask questions they had been balancing on the tip of a knife.

"Why is the west wing off limits?" Did something happen there?" Why won't anyone talk about it?"

Meg shuffled her feet with her hands bunched up in the folds of her skirt. Mira's green eyes darted here and there and up at the ceiling as if the glinting crystal beads in the chandelier held the answers to everything.

"Come to the common room," Meg replied. "We can't be seen talking about here."

"Meg, No!" Mira exclaimed. No!" It's.." Mira trailed off and scampered off her face screwed up as if torn between screaming and crying.  
**  
"Mira seemed scared," Anthony remarked. "Is she going to be okay?"

Meg sat down on one of the chaise lounges wiping at her own face with the edge of her skirt. "She will be fine, she's just flighty and easily startled. Don't worry about here, Miss Eleanor will take care of her."

"I'll check in on her later," Sydney said.

"But you want to know about the West Wing."

"Well," Meg began in a quiet but carrying conspiratorial tone. "You didn't hear it from me, but you see this old place has a history. and not the one you've probably heard in the newspapers. The Ellington family goes back a long way, probably since the founding of the city."

"They've been involved in a variety of business, shipping, and recently a lot of railroad expansions."

"Yes, that's now, but a while back around the turn of the 19th century Lionel and Elizabeth Ellington were to get married. It was supposed to be the highlight of the year."

"What went wrong?"

"What went wrong? Hah," Meg exclaimed. "That's a loaded question."

"Better to ask went did not go wrong. Everything was in place, decor, venue, dress, catering; flowers." Meg trailed off and she took in a deep breath and tapping her hand on the edge of her stocking-clad knee.

"Meg?" Anthony prompted.

"It all went to hell in a proverbial handbasket. The press of the time would have the public believe it was the work of a serial killer."

"Oh, My Stars and Garters!" Anthony exclaimed.

"It was a blood-bath. Everyone who attended that wedding was murdered. There were only two survivors. The grandparents of Gloria Ellington."

"My God!"

"Sydney," Meg began leaning forward and pressing her hand over hers. "Between you and me I don't think God had anything to do with it."

"Does Mira know?" Anthony asked.

"She doesn't know the details, and her mother never told her the full story, but I think they both suspect. Mira just believes that the West Wing is haunted and refuses even to go near even the stairs that take one there."

"Why hasn't anything like this ever come out before. You know how much New York society would love to wind up involved in this type of thing. Imagine the scandal."

"That's exactly what the family doesn't want to happen," Meg replied.

"You said it was the work of a serial killer?" Anthony asked.

"That's the official story," Meg replied, much calmer now. "I know this is going to sound crazy..."

"Crazy, sure, let's go with that."

"But, but you've seen the topiary garden, you've seen the portrait gallery..."

"We're convinced it was the work of werewolves," Meg whispered. "And there's a rumor that there might be a history of lycanthropy in the family line, but I'm told that it has a habit of skipping generations."

"You've gotta been kidding us," Anthony chuckled."I mean the 'official' story is sensational and gory enough without adding in the supernatural."

"Believe it or not; it's up to you, Meg shrugged. "But, if something happens, don't come crying to me that you were not warned." Meg got up and got up to leave, "If you what's good for you."  
****  
"We're not seriously going to check out the West Wing?"

"Yes, we are. Now be quiet."

"Where did you learn to pick locks?"

"My uncle on my mother's side was a bit of gentleman rogue and jewel thief."

"You never told me that," Anthony replied.

"You never asked. Now come over here and lend a hand," Sydney replied.

In a matter of minutes, a mechanism within the lock clicked and they were able to wrench the door open.

The unremarkable aroma of the unused space and mothballs and dust reached their nostrils and Anthony sneezed. "Damn, allergies."

"Come on," Sydney encouraged. "Let's explore."

"You are way too impulsive for your own good."

The West Wing had similar decor to the rest of the manor, tasteful carpet in muted tones, statuary, and paneled wooden walls, done in oak instead of cedar as was found in the rest of the house. 

There were more portraits here and as they walked cautiously around the place Anthony again felt that cold tingling sensation flare up and down his left arm. He rubbed at it and when he looked up at one of the portraits he could have sworn that its easy flickering yellow.

Then again, it was late and it could have been just a figment of his imagination. Meg's tale was getting to him more than he thought it would. After all, werewolves were just imaginary; they could not be real, right?

"Anthony I found something!"

He hurried up and found his wife standing in front of a mirror in a gilt and carved frame. It had been covered with a tarp that she had cut with a pair of scissors she had in her pocket when she had helped Meg, Mira, and other maids with their embroidery work.

"It's amazing. It's like you can see this whole room reflected as it is now, and at the same, if you turn away for a moment and then turn back again; it is 'like the room is just as it was back when Gloria and Alexander were alive."

"Okay, that's it. You're talking crazy. It's just an old-fashioned mirror."

From somewhere that neither could discern a syncopated rhythm began as if someone had turned on a radio, or put on a record.  
_"Because there's a monster living  
Under my bed. Whispering in my ear. There's an angel with a hand on my head  
She says I've to got nothing to fear  
There's a darkness deep in my soul  
I still got a purpose to serve  
So let your light shine  
Deep Into my home  
God don't let me lose my nerve. _

"Do you think someone knows where here and is just trying to scare us away?" Sydney asked.

"If so, towards what end?" Just then, a hand shot out of the mirror's surface and tugged Sydney into it. "Syndey! Anthony exclaimed. 

His heart was racing and he thought he was going crazy but his wife and the light of his world had just disappeared into an effing mirror, and he would be damned if he was willing to let that go without a fight. 

Squaring his shoulders and not allowing himself to think overly much about what he was about to do, strode into the mirror expecting at any moment to be showered into thousands of tiny pieces of glass as it shattered. Instead, he stepped through as if were as easy to pass through like water, or air. 

He found himself in the manor house of two generations ago, but without the touches of modern technology. To one side on an end table underneath one of the family portraits was a giant hourglass. For some reason that he could not explain he thought it was important. As if it had been placed there as a kind of sign-post.

"Sydney!" He called her name over and over again. No response. Despite himself, Anthony was beginning to become very worried.  
Lionel, as a young man, approached him. He looked about the same as he did in his portraits."You must be Anthony," he remarked. "We best hurry before something happens to your wife."

"I can't believe this is really happening!" 

"You had better, it will make things easier, and you will be able to save your wife.

"What do you want with her?"

"It's not I that wants, it's Gloria. She wants to turn her."

"You mean, as in actual werewolves?"

"Yes, as much it pains me to admit this, I should have seen the signs before I married here; now the entire family is cursed. But with both of your help, we will be able to break it. Come with me."

"Wait, what?"

"Why do you hesitate, Anthony, time is of the essence. Did you not see the hourglass in the hallway?"

'Yeah, you mean," Lionel tugged on his arm a bit more forcefully and Anthony was forced to quicken his pace to match that of the other man.  
******** Meanwhile, Gloria had Sydney tied up to a chair in a gazebo with silken cords while she leaned back in another chair with a casual and insouciant air about her. Gloria had long wheat-colored hair and green eyes and she wore a pearl-studded navy blue with a white over-skirt and lowed-necked blouse underneath.  
A style that would not have been out of place at any high-society function, but the look on her fine-boned face was anything but cordial and friendly. In fact, it was predatory.

"Look, sorry about crashing your wedding day, but you've got to let me go," Sydney demanded. "Please, just let me go."

"Oh, no, why would I do a thing like that?" Gloria asked in a silken throaty murmur. "And after all, I've done to lure you both to me. Dear sweet, Lionel, thinks that I want to break the curse.."

"Curse, you mean, all that stuff about werewolves is actually true?" 

"Modern-day girls, always in such a hurry. Patience my dear, patience. No, no, what silly nonsense, Not werewolves, lycanthropy; there is a difference, you know. And it's hardly a curse. I'm not certain exactly how it happened, but lycanthropy is in the bloodline a hold-over from when our great, great grandparents immigrated from the Old Country in the Brittany region of France, Loupe Garou."

"It's a family curse, then?" Sydney asked, both because she was curious and also because as long as she could keep her captor talking she might be able to prevent off whatever bizarre plans Gloria had in store for her.

"I would not say a curse, but the mirror provenance is unknown. It has properties that even I have not fully understood. It allows communication between the mirror--side and what you think of as the real world. It allows passage through it from there to here and back."

"Pretending for a moment that I understand all of that; why haven't you used it to get out of here?"

"Because I can't. Lionel and I and everyone who attended the wedding that day, well, died, what we are now is just a reflection, no pun intended, of our former selves. That's where you come in, my dear."

"Me," Sydney whispered.

"Yes, you are an ideal host. I need to turn you, and then Lionel and I will be free to come and go as we please between the mirror-world and the real world." Gloria grinned wickedly. "How do you say your modern parlance? Ah, yes, it's a win-win situation."

Sydney grimaced. "Not from where I'm tied up. She wanted to rub her arms just get the blood flowing in her veins again, but the ropes were too tight.

"Ah, a spitfire, I will enjoy this!"

Gloria began to change: her teeth growing longer, her spine arching as bones grew longer to accommodate a larger frame and the muscles in her arms, back and legs broadening. Her wheat-colored hair sprouting and cascading down her back and spine so that it covered everything. The dress tore and fell, unregarded to the tiled floor of the gazebo.  
The tawny wolf that stood before on its haunches had green glowing eyes and it regarded its prisoner with eager anticipation.

"Gloria!" Lionel called. "Stop! Don't do this!" "Can you hear me calling, calling out your name. I love you, and I don't fault you for giving in to the nature of your bloodline. This isn't the answer!"

The wolf that was Gloria snarled as it turned to face its mate. Snarling at Lionel to keep away from its prey. "You remember how it was, don't you. How we met, how we fell in love. How our families tried to keep us apart. You said how you wanted to be with me everywhere?"

Gloria growled, but this time, it appeared that she was listening. She got up on her haunches and regarded Lionel with a tilt of her head. 

She began to transform back into her human self. "I remember. I remember how you would come to me in the pale moonlight, stolen kisses in the night, how you promised me that we would be together forever and forever."

"I will never trade anything for the love affair that we had, still have. This shadow existence for what's it is worth," said Lionel. Turning to Sydney and Anthony, "with a small rueful smile, "Immortality isn't all it is cracked up to be."

"You could always hear me calling, calling out your name. No matter how far away you were, or when your duties took you away for days or even weeks at a time. All the time. You were my one and only, Lionel. Oh, what have I done?" Gloria exclaimed as she rushed to him and embraced him.  
"I should hope so," Lionel replied, kissing her on the lips, and her forehead. "You know that I'm proud and head-strong. I always have been. Was it wrong to want a little more time to be with you? I sometimes I can't get the words out. I just wanted to be yours forever and ever. I wanted to be with you everywhere." Gloria cast her hand around at their surroundings. "Yet, here we are."

"Here we are. I want to be with you everywhere, everywhere, even in this place on the other side of a mirror that feels like an oddly specific form of purgatory," Lionel replied. Gloria stepped away and picked up a selected a petal from a flower in a crystal vase that was on a table in the gazebo. She raised it up and inhaled its delicate aroma. "Is that what I think it is?" Lionel asked.

"Le Flor de Luna." The moonflower. It's been in the family for a very long time. The petals would have turned as red as blood." 

"What now?" Anthony demanded.

"I can tell that the sand in the hourglass is getting lower and lower as we speak," Gloria remarked, "If you are going to escape from this place you had better hurry."

Sydney and Anthony nodded and head back towards the access to the mirror.

************ 

After they left Lionel regarded Gloria and demanded: "You didn't turn her, beloved?"

"No, you interrupted me as I was about to." Her blood was so, so tempting. I would have loved to turn here. Alas, it was not to be."

"It's for the best. Do you still wish to be everywhere I am, knowing everything about the family bloodline and that we will likely not have an opportunity to escape from this place for another 50 years?"

"Yes, Yes, my darling, beautiful Gloria, yes, I do." After all, we made a vow, forever and ever."

"Forever and ever," Gloria echoed and embraced him as if the were two halves of a whole.


End file.
